


Witch War

by mtjester



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, M/M, Mind Control, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-20 17:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9502625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtjester/pseuds/mtjester
Summary: “We have three critical pieces of information: a series of mysterious deaths across this island; pirate activity linked to the trafficking of dangerous arms and equipment; and suspicion of some seriously illegal activity taking place in the former stronghold of the self-proclaimed Lord English, a sorry remnant of the former colonial aristocracy. It sounds, from the reports, like something straight out of a Gothic science fiction story--lights seen at night, strange sightings in the forest, and talk of humans who are more than human.” You glance at Terezi, who’s staring at the ceiling deep in thought. “Those rumors Tavros mentioned...do you believe they’re related to all this?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be added as this fic updates. The character POV may shift between chapters according to the needs of the narrative, so stay on your toes!

A salty breeze rushes over the bow of the cruise liner, lifting your hair from your forehead and shoulders in a swirl of dark locks. Your spirits lift with your curling tresses, and you bask in the smell, the acute sense of freedom, the lively pull of adventure. You have never sent out to pursue a case with such a strong call to  _ carpe diem _ before! The sun glistens off the dancing waves, the birds call out as if to say, “Land ho!” and the sky--

A loud, snorting sniff knocks you out of your thoughts. Terezi lets out a long “ _ Ah _ ,” and settles in next to you, leaning languidly on the rail. “You just ruined a perfectly good sensory experience,” you say, frowning.

“I think you mean I made it  _ better _ , Crocker,” she says. “Besides, we’re here to  _ work _ , right?”

You sigh. You did say exactly those words when you heard the details of the job. In your defense, they were almost entirely for you and not for Terezi. You’ve learned over the course of your eventful partnership that Terezi always takes the job seriously, even when she’s acting like a complete buffoon. You always take the job seriously as well, of course. It’s just been so long since you’ve had a real vacation, and a tropical island seemed a destination straight from your dreams! But she’s right. You are here to work.

“We can probably stand to enjoy ourselves a little bit, at least,” you say.

“Absolutely not. We are professional hardasses with the most unyeilding of sticks shoved up our butts,” Terezi says, the corner of her lips curling. You get the sudden and distinct suspicion that her jackassery is going to up the ante on this case. What a sense of adventure does for you wreaks absolute havoc on Terezi’s already fragile respect for decorum. You can’t point definitively to any specific evidence for this fact, but you know suddenly beyond the shadow of a doubt that it’s true.

“We are professionals, and this is not a vacation!”

“So no sightseeing?”

“It’s not like you can see many sights anyway.”

“Wow, Crocker. Should I say sight _ smelling _ ?” You let out a small “hoo hoo!” and she prods you in the side with her walking stick.

“Tasteless jokes aside, I supposed some sightseeing won’t hurt. Or sightsmelling, or even sighttasting! Or would it be scentsmelling and flavortasting?”

“Forget I asked. Is that it?” She points at the horizon, where a sprawling island rises above the gorgeous turquoise water. You aren’t sure what it looks like to her, but you imagine it’s a blur of color, completely lacking in detail. You can’t see much detail yourself at this distance.

“That should be it. Skaia Island,” you say. 

“Describe it to me.”

“Patience! We’re still too far to see much. I’ll describe it as we get closer.”

The cruise liner meanders its way to the small port city, where it will stop before journeying on to an extravagant tourist resort on another island. You and the other tourists will disembark, but unlike the others, you will not be returning to the ship. This island is your final destination, and you will have to dig in deep to uncover its unsavory secrets.

You describe the island artfully to Terezi, painting a picture for her that you hope will sharpen the details she cannot see. You have a particular knack for words that makes this task enjoyable for both of you, you believe, even though Terezi never compliments you on it. You’ve really polished up your imagery skills since you’ve starting working with her. You describe the buildings scaling up the squat, green mountain, mentioning every feature that stands out to you and makes the island unique: the double story dwellings, the smooth plaster walls, the clay tile roofs, the worn alleys. You point to elements of special interest like curved archways and festive murals, and you try to do justice to the small, colonial fort on the edge of the sea. The detail you don’t need to add is color. She can see for herself the bright, cheerful paint covering many of the buildings. It looks like a pleasant city, neither horribly poor nor pompously rich, and you find yourself feeling touristy again.

Terezi points to the top of the mountain. “What about that?” she asks. You’re surprised you didn’t notice it. Too busy thinking about how lovely the little city looks, you suppose, grimacing at yourself. You look up and examine the stoney fortress, tucked almost completely away behind the trees, surrounded by imposing walls. It seems a more grandiose and ominous version of the fort on the ocean, and you say as much. You can’t quite tell at this distance, but you think you can see barbed wire at the top of those stone walls. Terezi glances at you.

“You think that’s the place?” she asks.

“I would be surprised if it weren’t,” you say, but you really didn’t expect that it would be this easy to find. They did say it was something of a fortress, but...then again, squinting up at that barbed wire, maybe ‘easy’ is jumping the gun a bit.

The cruise liner pulls smoothly into the harbor. You go with Terezi to grab your things, and the two of you trail behind the happy tourists, speaking in whispers. You’ll have to review the case details when you get put up for the night, but before that, you may as well scope out the area. It’s always good practice to know your surroundings before you get in too deep!

“Shall we take a look around?” you ask Terezi.

“Already throwing work ethic to the wind and pulling out the disposable camera?” she teases.

“You know what I mean,” you say. And even if sightseeing were on your mind, which it is  _ not _ , mostly, you would bet big bucks she’d be just as much on board! She has her ears perked to the sound of a new language and her nose open to the oodles of new smells. You can tell. It’s in the keen arch of her eyebrows and the spring in her step.

“We should find ourselves a guide first,” she says.

“Well, there are a couple of guides with the cruise that--”

“Crocker, the people working with this cruise are swindlers and crooks. If we’re going to break past the facade put up for the tourists, we’re going to have to find someone more authentic.” You know she’s right, but she doesn’t wait for you to say so. She turns her head, pauses for a fraction of a second, and takes off down the pier. You follow, suppressing a sigh.

You haven’t had many cases outside of the country. The ones you have had have all been wildly successful, but you’re still getting used to the added strain of culture and language on top of the usual demands of the job. Not that you can’t handle it! You’ve done what research you could in the amount of time you had, and you’re no chump. But sometimes, letting Terezi lead the way takes off some of the stress. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she works well under pressure. You can trust her. Usually.

And even as you reaffirm your trust in Terezi’s judgment, she passes by some hapless dolt, sticks out her walking stick, and trips the poor man straight off the pier.

“Oh my goodness!” you say, rushing to the water. He comes up sputtering, and you get down on your knees, reaching for him. “Are you alright?”

He seems bewildered as he takes your hand, and Terezi deigns to help you pull him up. “Goodness,” you say again as you dig your hand towel out of your bag. You shoot Terezi a look she probably can’t see as well as you wish she could, and she sends you a devilish smirk over his head.

“Uh, thanks,” the man says with an accent, taking your towel. He runs it over his mohawked hair, pushing it back off his forehead. “I think I’m okay. I guess, I tripped?”

“You sure did,” Terezi says. “That was on me. Sorry. Walking stick. Blind. Happens all the time.”

“Oh, uh, sorry about that,” he says. “I would have moved, if I had known.”

“Don’t worry about it. Are you from around here?” Oh. Now you get it.

“Not exactly, no, but it’s one of our main stops, and I know it really well. Do you have a question?”

“You could say that. We’re staying for a bit, and we were looking for someone to show us around. And now that we’ve accidently thrown you into the sea, it would only be right for us to make it up to you. How about some food, our treat?”

You have to hand it to her, she’s an underhanded snake when she wants to be, but she gets the job done. His eyes light up, but he bites his lip. “Uh...that’s nice of you, to offer that, but I’m technically working right now, sort of…”

“Sort of?” Terezi presses.

“I mean, I’m supposed to be working, but sometimes I finish what I’m really supposed to do early and then just leave. Otherwise, she just gives me more work to do.”

“Sounds to me like you have a good reason to come hang out with us, then! What’s your name?”

He bites his lip again, but this time, he’s fighting down a smile. It’s hard to guess at his age--around twenty, maybe, perhaps a little less but not much more. Now that you’re really looking at him, he seems a bit world worn. Despite a layer of lean, hard-worked muscles, he has the physique of someone who didn’t get enough to eat when they were young. His brown skin is dark from the sun. Scars, mostly dull with age, litter his arms and neck, and he has an impressive cut on his cheek. You would probably feel compelled to feed him even if Terezi  _ hadn’t _ flipped him head-over-heels into the harbor.

“I’m Tavros,” he says. “And I think that maybe it would be fine if I showed you around for a while. I do have a curfew, though, so I have to be back before dark.”

“No problem, Tavros!” Terezi says, offering to him a hand. She helps pull him to his feet, and despite the fact that he’s still dripping wet, he seems quite pleased with the situation. “I’m Teresa, and this is Janet. Listen, we just got here, so we don’t really know our way around yet. How about you take us to your favorite place to eat?”

She’s pulling out the fake names. You know by now to let Terezi take over from here. She’s a much better judge of character than anyone else you’ve met, and she’ll determine whether this Tavros is someone you can trust. You just have to play your part until he’s been put down on the record as safe.

“Okay, sure,” he says, and he turns towards a small road that twists into the town. But he pauses. “Uh, by my favorite place to eat, do you mean--that is to say, do you want a place that... _ you _ might like better, instead?”

“Anywhere you eat will be fine for us,” you supply.

“Uh...okay,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. He glances around and changes direction. “Let’s go this way, then.”

He leads you into the town, but you notice immediately that you’re not  _ really _ going into town. You’re staying on the well-traveled thoroughfares that lead to the cruise landing, where you’re beginning to recognize the faces of tourists you saw with you on the ship. Vendors line the roads with art and souvenirs to sell. Shops are full of pretty and expensive clothes and trinkets, and the cafes all have their menus listed in English as well as the local language. The area clearly isn’t a daily destination for the locals. You purse your lips but let Tavros do his thing. He stops outside a rather cozy little restaurant, which, you hate to say, does look exactly like the place you yourself would choose if you were back home. He turns to you with a smile that has just a shadow of sheepishness. Hmm.

“This is your favorite place to eat?” you ask, casually so as not to sound accusatory. He shrugs one of his shoulders.

“My, uh, boss likes to eat here sometimes,” he says. “I’ve come with her before...once or twice…”

“We’ll put it on the map,” Terezi says. “But I’m not feeling it right now. Looks like a tourist trap.”

“What she’s trying to say,” you cut in, “is that we’d like to see what  _ you _ like.”

“Uh,” Tavros says, lifting his hand up to rub the shaved side of his head and looking almost embarrassed.  “Are...you sure?”

“Yes,” Terezi says flatly.

“Okay…” he says, and this time, he takes you away from the dolled up tourist part of the city. The roads become a little less even, the buildings a little more dusty, and the shops and restaurants far less aesthetically conscious. The people here have things to do and lives to live, and the notable lack of white families with cameras and water bottles lets you know that you’re getting to the part of the city you should know. If you want to find information and informants, this is where you’ll find them. 

You make it to a busy outdoor market that you can smell before you can see. Women walk around with baskets on their heads, calling out their merchandise. Some other entrepreneurs sit on the ground with their wares spread in front of them, and stalls line the streets. You see crates of fruits and vegetables, roots, herbs and spices, bright plastic buckets, cell phone credits, and a ways off, beautifully patterned fabrics. There must be fish and meat somewhere, too, going on smell alone. It’s loud, dusty, and crowded, and you don’t even have to look at Terezi to know that she’s grinning. Just what you need on the first day here. Chaos and commotion.

“Uh, here we are,” Tavros says, stopping in front of a stand with several pots of stew and rice covered in plastic wrap. “I’m pretty sure that this is the best place to eat on the island, but, just as a fair warning, it’s really spicy.”

“Yes, perfect,” Terezi says. She is having too much fun. Tavros seems both pleasantly surprised and pleased with her enthusiasm, and he turns to the woman at the stand with his own wide grin. They exchange words in another language. You get the impression that they’re on friendly terms, reinforcing your confidence that Tavros does eat here often, and you also feel strongly that they’re talking about you. She’s glancing at you intermittently as they speak. Your best guess is that most tourists don’t make it this far into town, given the time constraints on the cruise’s itinerary. Whatever her opinion of you is, she smiles and seems happy to load bowls of rice and stew for you. You all take the bowls and sit at the plastic table next to the stand.

Tavros was right. It is  _ very _ spicy. It’s good, but holy moly! You are definitely more of a sweets person. You try not to be too obvious as you wipe the sweat from your brow.

Next to you, Terezi sits with her tongue hanging out, grinning. “Janet,” she says, “describe it for me.”

You don’t know if you can get your mouth to work properly, but you’re too proud to give her a reason to tease you. You launch into your best descriptive prose. Honestly, the sounds and smells tell a better story than you could ever manage, but you do your best. But the subject matter is a little out of your realm of expertise. You can’t name half of the produce you see, let alone the roots and herbs and spices. After listening for a little bit with wide, interested eyes, Tavros starts to supply words and tidbits of knowledge for you. He becomes a rather enthusiastic participant in your storytelling, which is always nice. Terezi, with a tilt of her head, takes notice.

You finally make it through your hellfire spiced dish. You don’t want to look at yourself in the mirror. Your face must be redder than a radish! “Whoo!” you say, wiping your forehead. “That was excellent! Shall we walk?”

Terezi stands up. “Where to now, Tavros?”

“Uh,” he says, following suit. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

“Hmm…” she says. She makes a show of turning around and finally points up at the mountain. “How about that?”

“Oh, uh, we can’t go up there,” Tavros says. “That’s private land, not a historical place of interest or anything open to tourists.”

“What kind of private land?” Terezi asks. 

Tavros hesitates. “I don’t know exactly,” he says. “Except for rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“The, uh, kind that you don’t say out loud in crowds of people, where anyone can overhear you and tell other people that you were talking about it.”

“But you do know the rumors.”

“I...know  _ of _ the rumors.”

“Do you know of people who know of the rumors better than you do?”

“Uh…” He glances at you, and you wipe your face of anything but friendly interest. “Yes?”

“Okay, just asking,” Terezi says. “What about the fort by the ocean?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s open to the public. I think it’s a museum now.”

For the rest of the day, which is admittedly only the several hours before dusk, you let Tavros lead you around, acting the part of picture-perfect tourists. You only poke and prod when the opportunity presents itself, just enough to turn up the basic information about your location and its current happenings. You don’t manage to wheedle anything out of him that you don’t already know, besides fun little cultural facts and customs. After a while, Terezi mainly focuses on Tavros. You learn that he was born on another island, that he’s spent most of his life travelling the seas and trading goods with his “boss,” and that he has “people” on this island. He doesn’t go into much detail about any of it. You’re finding it harder to read Terezi’s opinion of him than what’s usual, but even you get the feeling that he’s hiding something. What he’s hiding will determine his usefulness to you as well as the trust you can put into him. You have to admit, you’re intrigued.

You finally get to your hotel at early sunset. Tavros waits for you to get checked in. You turn to Terezi to let her decide what to do with him.

“It was nice meeting you,” he says, and he looks like he means it. He’s sweet, if nothing else.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Terezi asks casually. Which means that she’s pegged him as useful. That much is good news. Finding guides and informants can be a huge pain in the tush. 

His eyes light up. “Uh, just working.”

“All day?”

“Not if I don’t have to.”

He grins, and you can’t help but smile back. “Would you like to accompany us? We’ll be hanging around the island for a while, and it’s always more fun with a friend!” you say. The word ‘friend’ lights him up like a lightbulb.

“Yeah, I think that sounds nice,” he says. “I’ll try to get done early, then, and, uh, meet you somewhere?”

“I don’t suppose you have a cell phone?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” He digs in his pockets and pulls out a rather nice phone, complete with waterproof case. You’re embarrassed to feel surprised. He waits for you to give him your number, and he types it into his phone. “Okay! So, I’ll just text you, and we can meet up somewhere.”

“Excellent,” you say. He gives you final smile farewell and takes off down the road. You hope he makes his curfew.

In the sanctity of your hotel room, you finally settle down to discuss the situation. Terezi lays sprawled on the bed, rubbing her dirty, dusty clothes all over the covers, and you bite back comments while you put your belongings away in the drawers. Terezi lives out of her suitcase, no matter how long you’re going to be somewhere. It drives you a little crazy. 

“What do you think of him?” you ask.

“He’s a doofus,” she says. 

“That’s it?”

“No. My best guess is that he’s a pirate.”

You turn to her with a raised eyebrow. “That’s your best guess?”

She shrugs. “It would explain why he won’t talk about his work or his boss.”

“Wait, that was an actual, serious hypothesis?”

“Focus, Crocker. The case. Give me the details again.”

You sigh. You’ve gone over it several times, but since Terezi can’t read the dossiers herself and she never bothers to bring her braille versions, she likes to be briefed often. “We have three critical pieces of information: a series of mysterious deaths across this island; pirate activity linked to the trafficking of dangerous arms and equipment; and suspicion of some seriously illegal activity taking place in the former stronghold of the self-proclaimed Lord English, a sorry remnant of the former colonial aristocracy. It sounds, from the reports, like something straight out of a Gothic science fiction story--lights seen at night, strange sightings in the forest, and talk of humans who are more than human.” You glance at Terezi, who’s staring at the ceiling deep in thought. “Those rumors Tavros mentioned...do you believe they’re related to all this?”

“No doubt,” she says. “He knows  _ something _ , at least.”

“And if he’s a pirate, like you said…”

“He’s a crap shoot. Getting close with him could either be very useful or very dangerous. Or both.”

“Well, it’s not as though we’ve never been in  _ that _ position before,” you say, closing the last drawer and storing away your suitcase. “He doesn’t seem like a bad kid, at least.”

“No, and even better, he’s gullible.”

She sends you an impish grin, and you roll your eyes. “Well, I’ll let you have at that, then,” you say. “ _ I’m _ going to shower, because I’m covered in sweat and dust and would prefer not to get it all over the bed!”

“Like this?” she rolls around, shimming down into your side of the bed, and you swallow your irritation. If you start the back and forth now, she’ll just keep doing it. It’s taken you a long time to find the patience not to take the bait.

“I’ll be in the shower,” you say instead. The shower is small, modest, and not very hot, but it has a lovely little window at head height that lets you look down across the city rooftops. You’re very nearly clean when Terezi jumps in and gets her damned dirt all over the place. Honestly.

It takes another two hours to get settled into bed. You have enough space between the two of you to shove a pillow, which is a gift with the way Terezi moves in her sleep, and you turn off the lights. Under the sheets, you set your alarm for 5:00 am. You've learned through experience that one of you will be waking up to some kind of insect, small creature, or other such surprise on the opposite pillow, and that the victim will be whoever wakes up last. You don’t intend to start off this adventure by losing.


	2. Chapter 2

You can smell the mist covering the island, and the growing heat of sunrise gives it a particular scent. You'd opened the window to your room before coming outside. Her alarm will be going off soon.

You’re grinning even before you hear her appalled “Ugh!” break the morning quiet. She doesn’t like the local lizards nearly as much as you do.

The sun rises early here, and the island wakes up when the sun rises. In the past week or so, you’ve gotten used to the sound of roosters crowing and the faraway beeping of cars. They sure do like their car horns here. Jane says they wouldn’t have to use their horns if they used their turn signals half as much and maybe had something resembling rules of the road. She huffs about it, but it sounds like your kind of place! 

You go inside to rush Jane out of the hotel room before she can fall back asleep. A week’s long enough to act like a lazy tourist. You got work to do, plans to execute, and bad guys to catch. Also the good food stands are going to get busy if you don’t get your asses into gear, and you hate waiting in lines.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Jane asks over breakfast. You sniff her food, but she’s just got boring porridge again. Your personal goal is to try as much local food as possible before the end of your stay, and hopefully to eat so much spicy food your tongue falls off. She pushes your face away and presses, “Tavros will probably sneak out around noon as usual, and then…?”

“We’re going to get him to take us to his ‘people,’” you say. You’ve been working up to this point all week. You think you’re finally close enough to push the subject. “But before that, we’re going to track down some meaty information on our murder victims. Maybe we can track down the families and investigate them more closely.”

“Do you think we have enough information to do that?”

“We will by the end of the day!” you say. “We need to know what the connection between the victims is and how they died.”

“Well, we kind of know how they died,” Jane says. She moves, and you hear the familiar sound of flipping pages as she opens her pocket notebook. She pauses. “Kind of.”

“Poison, right?”

“I’m just not sure,” she says with a sigh in her voice. “Some of them were just outright violent murders, all in the forests around the fortress. The others...it seems like poison or some kind of toxin. We don’t have consistent and reliable autopsy reports, especially from some of the smaller towns beyond the city. Some of the reports we do have link the cause of death to snake or spider venom, and others are blaming diseases caused by toxins in the environment, mycotoxins perhaps. At first glance, you’d just say that the island has a pest and mold problem or something of the sort! But…”

“But?”

“Well, a shocking number of locals are apparently attributing the deaths to witchcraft, and the victims make the unfolding of events suspicious.”

“Witchcraft?” You grin. “Sounds like this case is right up your alley, Crocker!”

“Oh, it’s all hogwash,” she says, and you can almost hear the frown in her voice. “Superstitious nonsense! Honestly…”

“Tell me more about the victims.”

“By the looks of it, they’re all people who have stuck their noses too far where they aren’t wanted,” she says, and you hear more turning of pages.

“Like what we’re about to do?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Excellent.”

“The most obvious victims are the ones who died in the forest,” she continues. “Clearly they were trying to trespass, and they met grim fates for their gall. The others, well, are  _ rumored _ to have connections with the pirate activity on the island or with the going-abouts of the sinister fortress of death.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“I think it’s an appropriately dramatic name for the center of our mad science scandal!”

You laugh. “‘Scandal’ is definitely the right word. Sounds good to me.”

“So, where should we start?” Jane asks. “I have names, but I get the sneaking suspicion that we might attract more attention than we want if we go around asking like clueless dopes!”

“We pretend to be interested in real estate on the island, and we want to know more about this mysterious death business before we invest,  _ obviously _ .”

“Oh,  _ obviously _ . Silly me.”

“First step: we need to find some newspapers.”

“And why?”

“Obviously they would have run some articles about these mysterious deaths. We can show them to the people we talk to like we just read up about it and are all freaked out.”

“ _ Obviously _ ,” she repeats with the tone of a good roll of the eyes. You crack a grin, and Jane puts away her pocket notebook. “Then let’s get started!”

Finding newspapers is a task you have to leave to Jane, so you follow her around, trusting her to find a couple good articles she can wave at people later. After about a boring hour of that work, you start your questioning process at the hotel with the front desk staff. Jane writes down any piece of information you might be able to use later. You both make your way to the market and start seeking out people who can speak English enough to share gossip. Unfortunately, people aren’t as loose lipped as you would hope, especially, you find, about matters of witchcraft. You don’t think being an outsider in the community is helping you out much. 

Partially to mess with Jane, partially because you’re getting bored again, and mostly because you’re not making much progress, you start to play up the part of customer. Money always greases the gears, after all. But after you get lost several times in a maze of stalls and make at least four questionable purchases, Jane grabs onto you and refuses to let you go for the rest of the morning. Nothing pisses Jane off more than bad financial transactions. You, personally, like your new bolt of brightly colored fabric with a pattern you can barely see.

You hang out at a safe cafe where you can’t get into trouble until Tavros texts. Noon passes. Then one o’clock. Then two. Finally, at around 3:30, when you’re about to go batshit crazy from boredom, he sends Jane a message. He meets you outside your hotel, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, for being later than I said I’d be,” he says as he jogs the last few yards to you.

“It’s fine,” Jane says just a little coolly.

“And, uh, I’d like to apologize in advance, because I have to stop hanging out with you early today.”

“Why?” you ask immediately. Looks like another of your plans for today is going to get fucked. Bleh, what a waste. 

“Uh,” he says. He shifts on his feet. “I want to go talk to a friend, about...an ongoing problem, that she gives me advice to resolve.”

Wait. This is perfect. “Let’s go, then.”

“What? You mean, as in now?”

“If you have a problem to resolve, let’s go get it resolved. Who’s your friend?”

“Uh…”

Jane jumps in. “We’d love to meet more people from around here. Everyone we’ve met so far has been so friendly and interesting! Perhaps we can all hang out together.”

Tavros hesitates. “She lives a little bit outside of the city,” he says. “It’s not as easy to get there as it is to get to places around here. We’ll have to take a bus.”

“Great,” you and Jane say at the same time. He still hesitates, but you’ve figured him out by now. He caves under pressure. All you have to do is completely overwhelm him.

“Which way to the bus stop?” you ask, locking your arm around his. “Is there one at the market?”

“Yes?” he says, and you immediately steer him in that direction. He goes with it, just like you knew he would. You hear Jane following behind you.

The bus isn’t a bus. Even you can tell that much. It’s a loud, creaking, vibrating van packed full of sweaty people. Jane is going to  _ love _ this. You shove her in after Tavros and press in next to her, laughing the whole way. Tavros passes money up to the guy in the front passenger seat and tells him the name of the stop, and then you’re creeping your way through the busy marketplace and towards the mountain. The van honks its way through traffic. It feels like the floor is going to fall out from beneath you. You can’t help it. You shove your hand into Jane’s face so you can bask in her expression.

“Are you sure we couldn’t have walked?” Jane asks tightly.

“Well, it would take a couple hours to walk there, but maybe we could have,” Tavros says.

It still takes an hour to get there by “bus,” and when you finally emerge from the hot danger box, you inhale a deep breath of air. It smells like livestock. You’ve arrived at a smaller town, and it apparently has goats, maybe cows. The street is made of dirt. You turn to Jane for a description, but she replies, “Later,” through gritted teeth.

Tavros takes you on a short hike through the town and up a stony path. You keep your walking stick trained carefully in front of you, and Tavros drops back to help you navigate the uneven ground. Jane stays behind you. You think she’s still annoyed with you, but sometimes you can feel her fingers graze your back like she’s waiting for you to topple back onto her. You guess this is karma for the bus ride.

“Okay, here we are,” Tavros says, stopping in front of some sort of house. You can only tell that it’s small and that there are chickens. He turns to you and Jane. “So, uh, this is the home of my friend, who’s also my, um...priest, I guess? She’s a healer, and she knows the spirits, so she’s a good person to meet.”

A priest-healer that knows the spirits? Oh god, it just keeps getting better. You wish you could get a load of Jane’s face. “Sounds good,” you say. “Can she cure blindness?”

Tavros laughs a bit. “I don’t know, but maybe you could ask?”

“Definitely,” you say.

Tavros knocks, and someone answers the door. Someone small and almost inhumanly white. The kind of pale reserved for people in the arctic circles. The tropical sun must do a number on this one.

“Oh, hi, Rose...is Aradia here?” Tavros says.

“She’s out on a call,” Rose responds. Her voice sounds young, but she talks like a stuffy old person. “And these people are…?”

“My new friends!” Tavros says with a touch of pride. “They’re staying here for a while.”

“And they wanted to experience a taste of exotic  _ jungle magic _ before they finished up their stay?” Rose asks, her voice dripping sarcasm. You can’t help it. You have to respond in kind.

“You got it,” you say with your own bite. “Just figured that if modern science can’t fix blindness, some jungle magic ought to do the trick!”

“Have you tried making a pact with a demon? I hear that’s an effective way to fix small issues like blindness from the comfort of your own home. No need to defile the religious practices of other cultures.”

“What’s the fun in that?”

“Actually,” Tavros jumps in hastily, “they just wanted to meet more of my friends, and that’s why they came with me. They didn’t know she was a healer until I just said so right before I knocked.”

“I see,” Rose says. “In that case, please come in. I don’t imagine Aradia will be out much longer.” She moves to the side to let you enter. Tavros waits for you to go in ahead of him. On the way, Jane latches onto your arm.

“Will you  _ behave yourself _ ?” she hisses into your ear. “If ‘witchcraft’ is supposedly involved in this case, this could be what we’re looking for!”

You know that, of course. “Just playing up my cover,” you whisper back with a smirk. You are going to wake up to literal shit on your pillow for all the trouble you’ve been giving her today.

She makes it seem like she was helping you to a chair the whole way, and you plop down at a table that wobbles a bit when you touch it. She sits next to you. You want to ask her to describe the room to you, but you don’t think she will with Rose moving around. Tavros chats at her while she makes some kind of drink for you near the hearth. Even as hot as it is in the afternoon, you can feel the heat of some coals burning in the fireplace. A small breeze from the open windows helps.

You hear the whistle of a kettle, and a moment later, she hands you a cup. You take a huge whiff of it before putting it anywhere near your mouth. You frown. “Is there rum in this?”

“Yes,” she responds. “It won’t help your blindness, but it might do something for your personality.”

You’re not sure if you should laugh or scoff. Jane laughs. Tavros settles down at the table next to you, but Rose continues to move around, doing something or other. You’re starting to think that maybe Rose is albino or something. She’s the easiest thing for you to see in the dark room, as pale as she is. She stands at a table in a dark corner, the light from the windows barely touching her.  “May I ask your names?” she says over her shoulder.

“Janet,” Jane answers. “And Teresa.”

“Hmm,” she says. She looks over her shoulder again. “Your  _ real _ names, please?”

You stiffen. Tavros’s head moves, and you can feel him looking at you. “Terezi,” you say after a charged beat of silence.

“Jane.” You know how Jane’s going to feel about giving up her name so easily, but now you want to know where this is going. Besides, those fake names suck anyway.

Rose falls silent, and the quiet in the room isn’t comfortable. It makes you want to fidget. A few moments pass. Some kind of tropical bird squawks outside the window. Finally, she turns, and the light reflects off something in her hand.

“Is that...a crystal ball?” Jane asks dubiously.

“It is,” Rose says. 

You almost laugh. “Are you going to tell us our futures?”

“No,” she says lightly, “but if I understand correctly, there are plenty of other things you would like me to tell you. There is something on this island you would like us to help you find, isn’t there?”

You shut your mouth. The urge to laugh leaves. You can almost hear the smirk on Rose’s lips when she says, “If you’re looking for answers, you have serendipitously happened upon the right place.”


	3. Chapter 3

“So, what you’re saying is that, this whole time, you were both undercover detectives of sorts, and all you wanted was information?” you say, glancing between Janet and--or, rather, Jane and Terezi. You don’t say so, but you’re pretty hurt. You really thought they were hanging out with you so much because they liked you. Now, you realize it was just because you’re easy to fool.

“Well,” Jane says, looking a bit guilty, “yes, we are undercover, but that doesn’t mean we were  _ only _ after information. We spent the entire first half of this week checking out the sights, after all. We were having fun!”

“Don’t worry, Tavros. We weren’t  _ only _ using you,” Terezi says.

“And besides! We trust you. That counts for something, right?” Jane adds.

You guess that does count for something, but you’re not sure for what. “But, uh, I don’t really know anything about the murders you mentioned, except…”

“Except?” Terezi presses, leaning forward. All of them are looking at you now, actually. Even Rose.

“Uh…” you say. The things you  _ do _ know are things that you definitely aren’t allowed to talk about ever. “Nothing. What I meant to say was, I don’t understand why you didn’t choose a better guide and informant, if that’s what you really wanted from the start.”

“Like Jane said, we trust you,” Terezi says. “That takes a lot. And look, we’re apparently where we need to be, so we must have picked the right guy. That is,  _ if _ the mysterious witch here actually does have a way to help us like she says she does.”

“We don’t use the word ‘witch’ lightly around here,” Rose says.

“What would  _ you _ call yourself, then?” Jane asks.

Rose puts on a small smile that makes you feel like she can watch you whenever and wherever she wants. “A seer.”

Jane rolls her eyes a little bit. You never really thought to question it before, and you don’t think you’re about to start now. Jane says, “So you can divine the cause of these mysterious murders through magic for us?” like she already believes the answer will be ‘no.’

“Causes,” Rose corrects her. “There is more than one murderer here.”

Jane closes her mouth, and Terezi leans forwards. “So you do know something,” she says.

“Aradia and I have been keeping a keen eye on the recent happenings,” Rose replies, looking kind of smug. “We have stakes in the fight, after all. Negative gossip about magic is bad for business.”

“So you know the gossip?” Jane asks.

“More than you could ever guess.” Her eyes seem to glitter. Something about Rose always makes you both intrigued and uncomfortable. She’s the only person you know who makes you think it’s possible to know too much.

Before Jane can form another question, the door opens, and Aradia comes in, carrying a basket with some gifts in return for her work. She sees you and pauses at the door. “We have visitors!” she says, grinning.

“Yes, hi,” you say, waving. “It’s me, and also some new friends, who actually turned out to be undercover detectives investigating the murders and some other things.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Aradia says. She comes in and puts the basket on her bed. “You got here quicker than we thought you would! We figured something extreme would have to happen before anyone off the island took notice.”

“Something extreme?” Jane repeats. “Like what?”

Aradia glances at Rose. “You do know about Caliborn, correct?” Rose says.

“Caliborn?” Jane asks.

“Maybe you would know him as ‘Lord English,’” Aradia says. Rose scoffs lightly.

“Lord English we know,” Terezi says. “Bits and pieces, at least. I’m guessing that means  _ you _ know about Lord English?”

Aradia and Rose exchange a look. You don’t know about Lord English. You’ve heard the name before, when your boss is muttering about all the irons she has in the fire, but that’s about as much as you can say about the subject. You’re beginning to feel like you’ve stumbled into some kind of intriguing adventure, which, since Aradia and Rose are involved and know important things apparently, is kind of exciting. You trust Aradia at least to have the situation, whatever it is, somewhat under control, because she knows the spirits. 

“Excuse us,” Aradia says, and she takes Rose to the side to talk and consult. They have their backs to you, but you bet they’re seeing into the future or seeking guidance from the spirits or doing other secret magic activities that show them the right path to take. Aradia gets all sorts of knowledge from the spirits that she uses to help guide and heal people. The spirits are probably how she knows about this Lord English person. You’re not surprised that she would have secrets like that. You’re used to the people around you having information that they keep from you a lot. But this might be the first time you get to learn what the secrets actually are, and that makes you sit up a bit straighter.

“Maybe,” Aradia says, looking back at Jane after a long while of consulting, “we can help you get some of the information you need.”

“Why don’t you tell us what you know now?” Terezi asks.

“We have our reasons,” Rose says.

“And we might be able to get you someone from the inside,” Aradia adds. “But before that, do you carry guns?”

This time, it’s Jane and Terezi who share a look, kind of, in that Jane looks at Terezi and you think maybe Terezi reciprocates in a way that Jane understands. “...Yes,” Jane says, but not like she’s happy saying it.

“Then we can help!” Aradia says. And to your surprise, she turns to you. “Tavros, I need to ask you a favor.”

You perk to attention. “Uh, okay, what is it?”

“We need you to sneak up to the fortress on the mountain.”

You’re taken aback. She’s never asked you to go that far before. You do go into the forest for her on a somewhat regular basis to get plants and roots and various animal specimens, and you can almost say with confidence that you know the forest better than most people on the island, even those who were born here. You have dreams about it, like you could find your way through it in your sleep. You think your brain just likes the way you feel when you’re in the forest, since it feels more like freedom than anything else you get to experience. It’s far away from the docks, from the sea, and especially from your boss. If you ever got the courage to hide from her forever, the forest is where you would do it. Maybe below a hollowed tree trunk, like the Lost Boys do in Neverland.

Before you can respond, though, Jane interrupts. “Wait a minutes,” she says, “isn’t that dangerous?”

“The most grisly murders happen on the mountain,” Terezi says, frowning.

“Yes,” Aradia says, “because of the Ghost.”

“The Ghost,” Jane repeats in the same kind of tone she’s been using to question words she doesn’t believe are true. You guess their investigation must not have been going very well if they haven’t even heard about the Ghost yet. Everybody knows about the Ghost. You just never talk about it because the people in the fortress are always listening and they can hear what you say. And then you die in your sleep.

“The Ghost is the guard of the fortress,” Aradia says. “He’s one of the murderers you’re looking for.”

“So why are we sending Tavros up the mountain?” Jane asks. “We’re armed. We can go instead.”

“Unless this ‘Ghost’ can’t be shot or stabbed,” Terezi says. “It’s not a real ghost, is it?”

“Of course it’s not,” Jane says, shooting Terezi a look. You think, just this once, Terezi wasn’t saying what she said to annoy Jane.

“The Ghost is not a real ghost,” Rose says. “Just one of the fortress’s...projects.”

“What do you mean?” Jane asks.

“You’ll understand better once we have him here.”

“When we  _ have him here _ ?” 

“Yes,” Aradia says. She turns back to you. “Which is the favor I need to ask! Tavros, we need you to bring us the Ghost.”

“You’re asking him to  _ catch the murderer _ ?” Jane asks. “By himself?” You have to admit, you’re also surprised and kind of hesitant to agree to a favor like that. Everything you’ve heard up until now has made it pretty clear that not meeting the Ghost is the better way to get through life without dying young and painfully. You’ve actually done a good job of avoiding him until now, even though you’ve been up and down the mountain many times. You’re always careful about sneaking and listening to your intuition, which is so good that sometimes you like to think about it as a person giving you advice or maybe even a guardian angel. You call it Rufio in your mind, after your dead father but just different enough that it’s not weird. Aradia also helps by acquiring spirit protection for you. It seems odd that, after helping you avoid the Ghost for so long, suddenly she’d tell you to go find him on purpose.

She’s still looking at you, though, and she’s got that excited expression on her face that makes you also feel excited, whether or not being excited is a good idea.

“Tavros is the best guy for the job,” she says. “We have our reasons.”

“I am?” The reasons are probably related to your forest knowledge, but you still like hearing it. You’re so unused to hearing good things about your skills that when someone does say something, it goes straight to your heart. 

“And, if nothing else, we have the spirits on our side. They’ll protect you!” she says. And that helps you make up your mind. If the spirits are on your side, everything will be alright. Aradia has never done you wrong when she gets the spirits involved. Not that she has ever done you wrong anyway, but the spirits are particularly lucky, just by virtue of being spirits.

“Okay, I’ll do it!” you say, standing up. Aradia grins.

“Great! All you’ll have to do is find him and trick him into coming here. You’ll know him when you see him. Just follow your intuition!” She gives you a wink, because she knows about Rufio.

“Is this seriously your plan?” Jane asks. She seems alarmed. That makes you think she meant it when she said they wasn’t just using you earlier.

“It’ll work out. Trust me!”

“He should at least have a  _ gun _ !”

“He’ll be fine.” Aradia goes to the door and opens it for you, and you step outside. Jane and Terezi stay inside, exchanging whispers. The sun is getting lower, you notice. You bite your lip. You believe Aradia if she says you’ll be fine, because spirit intervention, but you’re not as sure about making your curfew. And that also reminds you why you wanted to talk to Aradia in the first place. You still have a couple hours of daylight, but maybe you should go up the mountain tomorrow…

But you don’t want to wait. If you wait, you’ll probably get nervous about meeting the Ghost, and maybe the spirits won’t be happy with you enough to protect you. You don’t decide when the spirits will help you. They decide that. And Aradia.

“Hey, Aradia?” you say, turning to her. “When I get back, I’m going to need your help with something, concerning my boss, and advice relating to that subject…”

Aradia pauses. “Should we talk now?” she asks.

“Oh, no, since we have other important tasks to do, like catching a murderer, but still.”

“Oh, your curfew!” she says, looking up at the sun.

“No, that’s okay, too,” you say quickly. “I’ll just text her, and maybe send her a picture of you to prove that I’m here. She usually doesn’t mind that too much.”

Aradia lets out a light huff. “Maybe she could learn to mind her own business for a change.”

You laugh a little, mostly uncomfortably. “I am her business.” Aradia doesn’t like it when you say stuff like that, but it usually makes the conversation stop happening.

Jane and Terezi finally come out, followed by Rose, and you turn to the forest behind Aradia’s house. You just need to follow your intuition, and the spirits will help protect you. You close your eyes and try to feel, the way Aradia taught you. Your intuition makes you see the world like you’re flying. In your brain, you see the forest far below you, and you see a figure, far up by the walls of the fortress. So your intuition is telling you that that’s where you need to go. 

“I’ll try to be back before too long,” you say, giving them all a little wave before diving into the forest. The trees and shadows swallow you up. You always feel like the forest is alive around you. Not the plants, exactly, but the animals. Your intuition, Rufio, tells you that there’s a snake over there, a rat over there, a bird up there, what they’re doing, how they feel. Aradia says you must have a gift. You don’t feel that way with people, though, so you think her spirits are probably just helping you out by being animals that communicate with you unconventionally. Or maybe Rufio really is a special spirit inside of you, a particularly uncommon guardian angel that knows the creatures of the island.

Your father knew creatures well that way. You don’t say so out loud to anyone, not since your boss laughed in your face for it, but the big reason you hope your intuition is a spirit is that maybe it’s him. When you believe in that idea, you can imagine a future in which you’re as great as he was before he died. It’s hard to hope for that future any other way.

You follow the directions your intuition gives you, finding paths that you think about in your dreams, like places you think only certain creatures with unique vantage points would find or know about. You don’t question when Rufio makes you think there’s danger somewhere. You switch directions until you know you’re safe and continue on your way.

Rufio tells you through a feeling in your mind that the Ghost is just ahead. You get low to the ground and sneak forward cautiously, peeking around the plants. And when you do see him, you know him immediately, just like Aradia said you would. He’s pale like Rose is pale. You think he even looks like Rose a little bit, except that Rose is still a kid and the Ghost is older, like maybe older than you are. He’s wearing a pair of sunglasses, and a weird doll is wrapped around his neck. The doll makes your skin crawl for reasons you can’t explain, even with words like ‘intuition’ that can normally describe those kinds of feelings.

Now, you have to get him down the mountain to Aradia’s house. You don’t know how to do that. You didn’t really think ahead this far, and outside of navigating the forest and knowing about animals, Rufio isn’t very useful for advice. But you have the spirits on your side. With the spirits, you can’t get hurt, right? So you suck down a deep breath of air and step out into the open.

The Ghost pauses what he’s doing, which seems to be messing with some kind of surveillance device. You lift a hand up in greeting. “Uh, hi,” you say. “You’re the Ghost, right?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. You get the impression that maybe he’s surprised that you would come out to say hi like this, which, if he really is a horrible murderer, makes sense. He’s probably more used to stalking victims instead of just receiving them in a friendly manner. You’re starting to think you should have come up with a different plan when he says, “Yes, I guess that would be me. And you are?”

“Uh...my name is Tavros,” you say. “Nice to meet you.”

The Ghost rests the thing in his hand on his lap and shifts towards you. “I wish I could say the same thing. You do know you’re trespassing, right?”

“It, uh, crossed my mind.”

“And you know what happens to trespassers up here?”

“I’ve heard the rumors, yeah, but…”

“Then tell me, Tavros, why I’m constantly seeing you on our cameras.” He holds up the device, which you now recognize as a camera that was previously hidden in a fake rock, and your heart drops a bit. “Or did you think you were being sneaky?”

“Uh…” you say. You actually don’t know the answer to that question. Usually you don’t come this far up the mountain. You have before, for things that Aradia needs, but not recently. “I...think you’re thinking about someone else.”

“I’m not.”

“No, I’m sure you are.”

“I’m definitely not.”

“No, because I haven’t been up here in a really long time.”

“But you  _ have _ been up here.”

“Okay, yes, I have, but you implied that I’m up here constantly, which is objectively not true.”

He pauses, either to think about what you’ve said or because you’re being so bad at doing what you came here to do that he’s speechless. You’re really not starting off on the right note. You kind of wish you could go back into the bushes and rethink your strategy, but it’s too late for that now.

“Okay, Tavros,” he finally says. “Let’s just solve this problem upfront. I want to play a game.”

“A...game?” you say. You usually like games, but you don’t think he means the same sort of games you think about when you hear the word ‘game.’

“Yes.”

“What kind of game?” 

He sets the camera down on the fake rock it’s supposed to hide under. “Have you heard of the short story ‘The Most Dangerous Game’?”

You don’t like what that name implies, but you remind yourself stubbornly that you have spirit protection on your side of the highest caliber. “Uh, no, I don’t have have access to many books, but...I have been known to participate in games of a dangerous nature, if that’s what you’re asking. I even like a little danger, within reason, as a brave adventurer who is unafraid of a competitive challenge.” ‘Adventurer’ isn’t the exact title of your job, but you like to pretend, because it’s much nicer than what you actually are.

“Right,” the Ghost says, and if he’s impressed by your bold claim, he doesn’t show it. “Then let’s keep it simple. Pick a target of your choice on the island and start running. If you can make it there before I or my help catch up, you win. If you can’t...you’ll receive the punishment I typically deal to trespassers.”

You know what that punishment is, but you hardly give it a thought. This game is exactly what you need to get him to Aradia’s, and you know all the best paths to get there. It’s almost perfect. With your spirit protection, what could go wrong? You try not to smile, and to be on the safe side, you say, “How many people usually win this game?”

“None.”

“Ever?” Okay, maybe you should be a little concerned.

“You’re the first person to play.”

You decide not to be concerned again. “Oh, so, do you not get many trespassers, then? I thought...that is, the gossip says you’ve, uh...”

“None of our trespassers usually make it this far,” he says. “Or initiate a conversation before I notice they’re here.”

“Oh, so...you’re challenging me to play a game instead of doing whatever you usually do with the others who trespass, just because I’m better at sneaking and conversation?” You’re honestly kind of flattered, or would be if there weren’t the implied mention of violent murder behind everything said so far.

“I want to see how you get past our security. Consider it a troubleshoot. Any other questions?”

“Uh...what do I get if I win?”

“You won’t.” He says it with such deadpan certainty that you feel even more excited to prove him wrong.

“Okay, you can say that if you want, but I think I will, so I say that if I win, you have to sit and talk with me for as long as I want.”

You fold your arms across your chest triumphantly, but he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, which puts a damper on your cocky facade. Maybe folding your arms was too much. It’d probably be weird if you dropped them now, though. Finally, he says, “...Are you asking me on a date?”

“What?” you say, dropping your arms. “No, wow, no, that wasn’t my intention at all, unless…” Your face begins to get warm. He’s not  _ unattractive _ , for a murderer with a creepy doll wrapped around his neck like tourists wear their cardigans. He’s got a nice physique. You do like his hair. You clear your throat. “In any case, that’s a strange proposition, and I think we should wait until after we talk to, uh...what I’m trying to say is, I don’t think we should put something like that on the table when you’re threatening to murder me.”

“Are you suggesting you have in mind a foreseeable future in which I will  _ not _ be threatening to murder you?” he asks. “Should I expect to find you sneaking up on me again after we’ve had our chat and gotten to know each other? Is this some kind of ‘hunter becomes the hunted’ fantasy for you? Maybe that’s why you’ve been lurking around here so much. Mystery fucking solved.”

“Uh, no, the mystery is not solved, and maybe the real mystery is why you would imagine that scenario as a way to pursue romantic relations with someone...”

“You’re the one who dodged up the mountainside to win my heart through deadly competition. Not many suitors have gone that far, I’ll admit.” 

“Do you...get many suitors?” 

“Want to know about your rivals?”

“No, not at all,” you say. “I’m just asking because, uh, you kind of have a reputation for...being a certain way, which, I’ll admit, you don’t look how I expected, with the cool shades and nice hair, but--”

“None.”

“What?”

“I have no suitors. I was joking.”

You blink. “You were…?”

“Joking. I was joking,” he says. He doesn’t have a joking expression on his face, but you do guess his voice changed in tone a little bit. Maybe? He continues, “About the date. Not about murdering you.”

“Oh,” you say. You don’t really know how to respond. “Okay. Uh, just to clarify again, that when I say I want to talk, what I really mean is…”

He stands up, cutting you off. “If you happen to win this game--an already unlikely scenario--and you come back up the mountain, find me before I find you, challenge me to another game of the same caliber, and win again--a feat so close to impossibility that I can hardly conceive it--I will go on a date with you.”

“Uhh…” you say, and because you honestly can’t think of anything better to say, you just say, “Okay.”

“Pick your target,” he says in a more firm tone of voice, which must be the not-joking tone. “It must be off our land.”

“Aradia’s house,” you say immediately.

“Aradia’s house,” he repeats. “The witch?”

“Uh, no, she’s a healer, but yes, that’s the house I mean.”

“On the north side of the island.”

“Yes, that house.”

“Got it.” He cracks his neck in a way that’s both intimidating and impressive. He lifts his hand to look at a small device on his wrist. “I’ll give you a minute’s head start. There are no safe spots, no time outs, no point system or penalties. You make it there before I or my help make it to you, or you don’t leave this forest. Clear?”

“Uh, by help, what…?”

“You’ll find out shortly. Go.”

He clicks the device on his wrist. It begins to beep. You’re taken off guard, and it takes you an extra second to turn on your heels and dash into the forest. As you run, it begins to dawn on you how seriously you should be taking this situation. You concentrate hard on your intuition, pulling in all of the feelings you can about your surroundings, and you stick to paths that have as much cover as possible without slowing you down too much. At first, it doesn’t seem too bad. Even after you’re sure the minute for the early start runs up, you think you’re doing pretty good. But then, you start to get a really, really bad feeling.

Rufio broadcasts danger into your mind. It’s coming from two places. You think one is the Ghost, but you don’t know what the other is, and it’s moving fast. You can almost hear the danger moving through the forest, like listening to the fear of the birds flying away, the creatures clinging to disturbed branches, the animals running for shelter as something agile and deadly rushes past. Panic seeps into your bloodstream. The adrenaline helps you to hyperfocused on Rufio’s instructions, at least, and you seek feelings of safety, shadowy places, secret crevices, fast inclines. You switch directions when the danger feels too close. No matter what, you keep running.

They’re coming closer, closing in on you so that you have less options, less space. But you’re getting closer, too. You duck into a ravine and sprint around the rocks. You know the fastest way out. They funnel down, and now you have more room to change direction. Aradia’s house is just a little ways away. The danger is almost on you. Just a little more…

Something slams into your back, and you topple forward, rolling down the hill for a bit. You’re so  _ close _ , but it’s on you. A narrow beam of sunlight gleams from its chest. It’s not the Ghost...it’s a metal man, like nothing you’ve ever seen before, and it’s raising a blade.

You think just fast enough to move, and the sword clips your shoulder. You turn to scramble away, and your eyes fall on a vine, thick and hard with age. You grab it and twist just in time to get it around the metal man’s arm. You tie a quick knot you learned at sea, something to keep it in place just long enough, and you scramble out from beneath it. The metal man swipes at the vine. You have seconds to get to the edge of the forest, and you propel yourself forward with young trees and steep inclines. The Ghost is coming to cut you off from a different direction. You could turn and let them make you run farther away from Aradia, but you have spirit help. The spirits will make you lucky. You hope more than anything that you’re right about that, and you keep running forward, keeping track on the danger with your intuition, hyperfocusing for the moment they catch up to you.

You barely see the Ghost coming out of the corner of your eye, but due to spirits and Rufio, you don’t need to. You stop and duck to the side at the last moment, in a way you’re sure he won’t suspect. You keep going. The edge of the forest is just there. You break through the trees into the light of the lowering afternoon, and you run right up to Aradia’s house, until your hand is on the crumbling plaster side.

The blade of a sword lodges itself into the plaster next to you. You hear panting. You turn, and the Ghost is behind you, sweating and with maybe a trace of anger in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. Behind him, Jane stands with her gun raised, pointing at the back of his head, and Terezi has her own blade out. Behind them, the metal man stands at the end of the forest, watching without an expression.

Your lungs are burning, but you still manage to grin. “I won,” you say.


	4. Chapter 4

The tiny voice in your brain tells you to kill him anyway, filling your mind with the familiar foggy rage that burns against your reason like white-hot coals, but you overpower the impulse with the plain logic that you’re cornered. You dislodge your sword from the witch’s hut and straighten your back. “You won,” you say. You glance over your shoulder at the armed women behind you. They aren’t from the island, that much is obvious, and you can guess what they want with you. “This looks like a piss poor excuse for a date, if you ask me,” you say to Tavros without turning back to him.

“Sorry to disappoint,” the woman with the blade sneers. She’s pulled the weapon from a walking cane, which, if she’s not faking, would mean she’s the weak link. If you can cut her down, you can make a dash for the forest. You gauge the distance between you and her. But until you know how good a shot the other is, the plan is fragile. Maybe fatal, depending whether they want  you alive to question. Tavros did say his conditions were to talk as long as he wanted, so maybe they do. You don’t have enough information about the situation to make a solid strategy either way.

Beyond them, your piece of shit brobot watches, motionless. It’s your own damn fault for programming the thing to stay within the boundaries of the forest. It can’t help you unless you make it back within its perimeter on your own. 

“Drop the weapon and put your hands on your head,” the woman with the gun orders. What choice do you have? You’re going to have to play along until you get a better opening. You throw down the sword and slowly lift your hands. “Tavros, get the sword,” she says, and Tavros sneaks around you to pick it up. He looks a little sheepish about the whole thing. If you get in his good graces, maybe he can be your ticket out of here. You might even feel bad when you kill him.

The woman with the gun gestures towards the front of the hut. “Walk,” she orders. You do as she says. The other goes ahead of you to open the door, and you slip inside, each second assessing your surroundings and drawing up plans of escape. The structure is small, maybe two or three rooms at most, with several paneless windows. The light inside is low, especially with the setting sun, but a few candles have been lit and coals burn in the hearth. The furniture is sparse and probably not sturdy enough to be used as reliable weapons. Another woman stands by the table, the woman you recognize as the witch Aradia, a high threat citizen that you’ve found to be unusually difficult to monitor. She smiles at you and says, “Hello, Dirk. I have a surprise for you!”

You stiffen at the sound of your name. “And what would that be?”

“It’s me,” someone says from behind you, and a familiar weight is ripped from your shoulders. Panic rushes to your head so quickly you almost lose your bearings as you whip around, and your hand closes on the girl’s throat just a second too late. She looks up at you smugly, a ritual knife lodged deep into Lil Cal’s forehead. Blood dribbles from the puppet’s skull. For a beat of your heart, everything seems to be deadly silent, but then hell is bubbling up and consuming you, plowing through you like a physical pain from your brain out. You don’t know if the screaming is coming from Cal or from the deepest corners of your mind, corners his demonic influence has carved out and claimed over the years. He’s dying. You can feel him dying, and he’s clawing you on the way out, like he’s taking you with him. Maybe you’re dying, too. Maybe you can’t live without him anymore. You vision goes red, then white, then black.

You don’t know how much later you wake up. You’re on a mat in front of the hearth, a cool cloth on your head. Your mind feels empty. Like the cold halls of the fortress where no one walks, the dark crevices in the ceiling of the lab where only spiders live, listening to water droplets falling to the ground, one by one. In your mind, it’s only you. No voice whispers to you. No fog, no bloodlust or rage. Just you, with a clarity you forgot you ever had.

Outside, night has fallen. More candles have been lit inside, and your gracious hosts huddle around the table, talking in whispers. Your senses have not sharpened; you have always heard and understood the sounds of night, the smell of burning candles, the gentle hiss of other people whispering, but how your mind works with these sensations is completely different. You inhale deeply, and the air feels cleaner somehow. 

“Are you awake?” someone asks. It’s a voice you know, and it makes your heart freeze over. You turn your head. Rose smiles down at you, but without warmth. “Hello, father. Welcome back.”

You fight to swallow your apprehension. “Don’t call me that,” you say. You struggle into a sitting position, but upright, a dull throb echos through your head. You try to ignore it, but a voice at the table becomes much louder than it was a moment ago, worsening the headache.

“ _ Father _ ? Him?” the woman who had been holding the gun earlier says. “He’s barely older than Tavros!”

“It’s a long story,” Rose says. “One we’ll explain in more detail after he gets used to his new state of mind. I imagine it was a shock.” She hands you a drink. It has rum in it, going by the smell.

“I thought you were with Roxy,” you say. “You all ran away.”

“I was, and we did,” she says. “And I returned.”

“By yourself?”

“Do you see anyone else here?”

You pause. “I’m surprised she let you.”

“She didn’t.” Rose smiles, and she would look like Roxy if there were any positive emotions in it. Rose smiles in a way you might if you ever smiled, wry and cryptic. 

“You left without her permission,” you say. You’re not surprised, but your mind flies to Roxy and a cold feeling settles in your gut.

“Yes,” Rose says, like she knows what you’re thinking and means to mock you for it. “I imagine she’s guessed where I am by now, but she can’t leave Dave behind to come get me, and we both know Dave would rather swim across the ocean to Europe than come back to this island.” She looks at you, piercingly, and a shadow of malice slips into her smile. You drop your eyes to the cup she’s given you. You haven’t felt guilt since the day you first looked into Lil Cal’s eyes, but the notion seeps deeply into you that you deserve everything you feel now. It’s probably appropriate that Rose, not Roxy or Dave, would be the one to come back and get you. She has no qualms punishing you for everything you’ve done.

“Anyone want to explain all of this?” the woman with the walking cane says. “Between the bleeding, screaming hell doll and nursing the murderer back to health, I’m missing something.”

“I’m also confused,” Tavros says. 

“Perhaps introductions are in order,” Rose says. “Jane, Terezi, Tavros, this is Dirk. Dirk, this is Jane and Terezi. You’ve met Tavros already.”

You give them a polite nod, and Tavros at least says, “Nice to meet you,” which he had already said back in the forest. He still seems to mean it, which is a mystery to you. The other two don’t seem as keen on formalities. They keep their attention on Rose.

“The situation is a bit complex,” Rose says. “The short version of the story is that both Dirk and I were created in the lab beneath the fortress, born to become bioweapons the likes of which the world has never seen. Dirk and Roxy were the first generation that lived, and Dave and I were the second generation, created from the first. All of us but Dirk managed to escape some years ago.”

“So, you’re saying that several bioweapons have been wandering around the general public for several years, doing whatever they pleased?” Jane asks with alarm.

“Yes, if you want to look at it that way,” Rose says. “We keep to ourselves. We were never particularly keen on our predetermined fate. Although we were theoretically the holders of great power, we were powerless, under the command of dangerous individuals that were more concerned with our uses than our quality of life. Unlocking our potential, as they would call it, was often for us an exercise in cruelty. I’m sure Dirk can say more on that subject.”

She turns to you, that malicious curl on the corner of her lips, and you say, “I would prefer not to.”

With the wry smirk still on her face, she continues, “Our determination to escape solidified after an  _ experimental procedure _ , designed to ensure obedience.” A scene flashes before your mind, the floor of the lab covered in blood and gore, a ripping sensation in your soul, bright blue glass eyes, and you want to wrap your head up in your arms. “A combination of science and dark, forbidden magic. Humans were sacrificed. It was a rather grisly event.”

You stare down into your cup, willing it all away. You never had to think about any of that when you had Cal, and if you did, all fragile emotions you may have had about it were squelched by the voice in your head. You glance up and look around the room. He’s leaning against the wall by the door, his eyes empty, blood dried black against his white face. You feel like throwing up. 

“Okay, I’ll admit willingly that I never considered magic a legitimate possibility in, well, any situation ever,” Jane says, “but after...whatever it was that happened earlier, with that  _ thing _ , I’m willing to suspend disbelief for now. Needless to say, I’m a little out of my element here! Could you explain what, exactly, you mean by magic? How does one combine science and magic? And  _ human sacrifice _ ? A little Hollywood cliche, isn’t it?”

“Hmm,” Rose says. “Perhaps you could take this question, Dirk?”

She turns to you, and for a second, you honestly hate her, in a hot, hissing way that makes you suspect that Lil Cal left something in your brain permanently warped. But you deserve this, and she deserves to hear you say it out loud. “I played a significant part in the procedure,” you say. “Others chose the components carefully, based on traits desirable in the outcome. A program that I had created, designed to mirror my own psyche, was used in the procedure. Humans were sacrificed, and their desired essences were contained. All of them were sealed using magical means in Lil Cal. Going into the magic itself would be an undertaking, but if you’re interested in knowing…”

“Lil Cal is…” Jane says, looking over her shoulder at the door.

“The doll,” Rose responds. “A juju designed to twist the soul. It was used to create our caretaker, the Doctor. He was always a  _ personal favorite _ of mine.” You feel her eyes on you, but you don’t have anything to say in your defense. “We made our escape later, thanks largely to Roxy’s particular abilities and to the arrival of some new rivals on the island. Dirk, having been fully taken by Cal, did not leave with us.”

You remember feeling nothing that night, or being convinced to feel nothing. Now, with the sense of clarity you have without Cal, you feel a great many things, but you’re not in the position to work through any of them. The women at the table exchange glances.

“So,” Jane says cautiously, like she’s not sure she even believes what she’s saying, “ _ this _ is the kind of thing we’re up against?” She gestures to Cal. 

“Yes,” Rose says. “You’ve seen it with your own eyes. Are you still convinced the gossip about witchcraft is just petty superstition?”

“We’ll believe whatever it takes to solve this case and stop anything that needs stopped,” Terezi says. She leans forward. “You mentioned rivals on the island. You also said there’s more than one murderer. Can you explain all of that now?”

“No,” Rose says shortly. 

“Why?”

“We have our reasons. I believe that the opportunity will present itself before dawn.” Rose looks at Aradia, and she nods. Rose nods in return, and she turns to you. “There are some things we can learn now, but we will have to get our information from our new guest. Dirk, would you care to tell us about Her Imperious Condescension?” 

You pause. So this is why they went through the trouble of liberating you rather than killing you outright, assuming Rose couldn’t care less if you died. You have information they need. “HIC is a more recent model of bioweapon,” you say, “created after the others escaped. She’s the most successful model we have that combines magic and science. The Doctor used knowledge gathered from and about witch activity during the archipelago's fight for independence years back to create her. She killed her predecessor easily. She’s still flawed in many regards, but she’s a deadly weapon.”

“There were witches in the independence wars?” Terezi asks. “Why don’t we hear about any of this cool stuff?” Jane grimaces, but she doesn’t say anything.

“There were plenty!” Aradia jumps in. “On both sides of the conflict. Some would argue the witches won the wars for us.”

“That’s what I’ve heard, too,” Tavros says with a nod. “But, uh, isn’t it bad that the knowledge about witches is being used now for these nefarious purposes, to make magical bioweapons?”

“Yes,” Aradia says. “The abuse of magic for power, especially by someone like Caliborn, is a big problem.”

“Magic or not, it does sound like we have our work cut out for us!” Jane says. “How are we going to gather evidence for all of this? We won’t move anyone to action if our investigation just turns up a bunch of mumbo jumbo magic talk!”

She turns to Terezi, who sighs through her nose. “You. Dirk, right?” she says, gesturing in your direction. 

“Yeah.”

“You said they combine science with magic. Science means they keep records of the experiments they’ve done, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know where those are?”

You pause. “Yes,” you say slowly, “but they’re kept under an enormous amount of security. If you need to get into their system, Roxy would be a more competent informant that I am. She can hack.”

“I’ll text her,” Rose says. Your eyes snap to her.

“Just like that?”

She shrugs. “I’m sure she’d be willing to help us destroy this operation before it goes much further.”

“Have you texted her at all the whole time you’ve been here?”

“My phone’s been off.”

“Wow. That’s cold.”

She fixes you with a cool stare. “Are you sure that you, of all people, should be the one to lecture me about what behavior is or is not ‘cold’?”

“Well, I can take up that lecture if necessary!” Jane says from the table, frowning. “All this talk about running away and leaving your family is beginning to worry me. You’re a child”

“It’s okay,” Aradia says, “I’ve been in contact with Roxy.”

“You have?” Rose asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I can’t just take on an apprentice without their guardian’s approval!” she says with a disarming grin. Rose doesn’t look pleased to hear it, but you feel a bit of relief.

“How about this,” you say. “Text Roxy. Let her know what’s up. She can give us radio advice if she wants to stay with Dave. I don’t know where they are, and at this point, I don’t think I even deserve to know, but her help is the only way you’re going to get in.”

“And your help?” Rose asks.

“What about it?”

“Do we have it?”

You inhale through your nose. You’ve been under Lil Cal’s influence for so long, you don’t know if you can be trusted. You don’t honestly know if you know  _ yourself _ , and if there are traces in you of the monster you’ve been for so long, burned into the structure of your brain, getting involved could be dangerous. The fortress has held you in its grip at the deepest possible level for years, and you’ve done horrible things. Horrendous, awful things, for years, at the simplest of commands from the people there. Returning, reengaging contact, coming face-to-face with the Doctor, all of it is a risk you can’t assess the way you are right now. And you’re tired. You’ve regained an emotional spectrum that’s been smothered for much longer than what’s healthy, and you’ve got the strong suspicion that you might actually be extremely fucked up. So you don’t know. You don’t know if you’re  _ safe _ enough to be giving anyone any help.

“I’ll let you know in the morning,” you say. Rose’s eyes freeze over, and you suspect immediately that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“I look forward to hearing your verdict,  _ father _ ,” she says, light and breezy and chilly enough to make a lesser person shiver.

“On that note,” Aradia says, jumping in hastily, “it’s getting late. You’re all welcome to stay the night. Tavros, did you text your boss?”

“Oh, your curfew!” Jane says, clapping a hand to her forehead. “We completely forgot! Are you going to get into trouble?”

“A curfew?” you repeat. You look at him, narrowing your eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, seeming almost embarrassed. “I’m supposed to report back to my boss each night, but she’s usually not mad if I stay the night with Aradia. And, yeah, I texted her and sent her a picture to show her I’m here. It’s fine.”

You know for a fact he does not have a curfew. Night after night, sometimes three times a week, you see him on your cameras, sneaking around in ways that are impossible for you to follow. The problem has frustrated you for weeks. You doubled the number of security cameras you keep around the fortress and increased the frequency of your rounds because of him. You’re  _ sure _ it’s him, his face, his hair, his figure, and the challenge he gave you during your race back to Aradia’s house confirmed it beyond a doubt. But something isn’t right. You’ve studied the footage carefully, multiple times, trying to solve the mystery. In the footage, he hunches, somber, loose limbed. He moves smoothly but emptily, like a sleepwalker. That’s not the guy you have in front of you. His posture is shy but enthusiastic, and he smiles a fucking lot more than you would have ever guess based on the evidence you previously had at your disposal. In the forest, when he approached you and said you got the wrong guy, you almost believed him, just on the proof of his disposition alone. You’re having the same problem now. Maybe you did have the wrong guy.

You’re a little disappointed. You thought you’d finally caught him. Not that it matters anymore, but the victory would have been satisfying. 

“Rose, could you get the sleeping mats?” Aradia asks. “Tavros, you said you had something to talk about earlier. Do you want to go outside?”

“Oh, yes,” he says, standing up. He and Aradia exit, and you lay back down. Rose brings the mats in for Jane, Terezi, and Tavros, and the three of them arrange the mats on the floor. You’re exhausted, but your mind has too much to work through to let you sleep soundly. Whispers float over from the two women lying on the floor across the room and from the two outside. Rose waits at the table for Aradia to come in. Before they retire to the back room, Rose stops by you and picks up the drink she gave you. Your eyes snap open when you feel her cold fingers brush your forehead. She looks down at you, says nothing, and leaves the room.


End file.
